In Another Universe
by TnT6713
Summary: "In another universe, I would be completely and totally in love with you." He might not love her, but he comes pretty close. Lorcan/Lily, Lorcan/Molly. T to be safe.


**In Another Universe**

_Special thanks to Bella for a lot of the dialogue_

I was fragile. We both were. But while I was in a state of semi-repair, he was on the cusp of breaking, of shattering completely. I could tell he was hurting, it was painfully obvious just how much he was hurting. But I stayed strong. For once, I was the one to stay strong, I had to be. Because I had to be the one who would hold him and comfort him and tell him he isn't a bad person. I couldn't let him know that it was hurting me, too.

I had never seen him cry before. To be quite honest, I don't think anyone had. Lorcan Scamander didn't cry, he just didn't. He made others cry. He was a heartbreaker, an infamous heartbreaker. It seemed like all he did was eat, sleep, and shag. That was his life, his daily routine. That's who he was, for what could have been an eternity. But then Molly came along. Poor girl, I feel bad for her. She hates me now, or at least, she should. But she was the reason he changed, the reason he got scared, the reason he ran. He hurt her so many times, because he was so very scared. She did that. She made him scared. I do feel bad for her, though. She didn't deserve this. But, like I said, she hates me now. So I guess we're even.

He really did love her. I suppose he always had. And maybe, he always will. But there came a point when he just couldn't do it anymore. They were both so broken, and he didn't know how to help her anymore. Funnily enough, she had never tried to help him. He had always worked so hard just to make her happy, to try and fix her, that she couldn't even notice he was hurting, too. And I suppose it helped that he hid it beautifully. But when Molly failed to take her own life, Lorcan did what no sensible person should have done: he left her. And it completely destroyed her. What she failed to notice, however, was that he was just trying to help her. That's all he ever did, all he ever wanted to do. He wanted to help her.

He couldn't take it anymore. Everyone knew he was at his limit, even Molly must have known. How can someone force themselves to stay in a situation, especially a relationship, which only hurts the other party? How can someone force themselves to stay in a relationship which only hurts them? He tried so hard to make her happy, but in the end, it wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough to fix Molly Weasley. She was far too broken, far too gone.

I think I was the only one who supported his decision. They all called him crazy, said he was stupid, said he was wrong. But I didn't. He needed that; he needed to be away from her. He needed to learn how to be himself, how to not constantly be worried about fixing someone who would not allow themselves to be fixed. I don't understand how I was the only one to have seen this and understood it. They didn't even care enough to observe, only to judge and hurt and degrade. They tore Lorcan to shreds for nothing, for absolutely nothing. I didn't understand how it was suddenly a crime to end an unhealthy and unhappy relationship. Surely, being single was better for the both of them. They were free, of course. Finally free.

I could tell he was distressed by the way he walked into the room. His footsteps were heavy, loud, cold. His voice was raw and worn out, as if he had been shouting… or crying. I knew he was unhappy by the way he said my name. I didn't even have to look up from my book.

"Lorcan, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Lily. Everything's fine. Sorry for bothering you."

"You're not fine. You sound like you've been crying."

Only then did I even take my eyes away from the yellowing pages of the library book I had forgotten to return, in time to see him shake his head and whisper, "Scamanders don't cry."

But there were tears streaming down his face, staining his skin. He was frozen, unable to move, and as his breathing hitched, I could feel my heart breaking. I had honestly thought he was invincible. But every day proved me to be more and more gullible, it seemed. I had been lied to in the past, but nothing had shaken me quite so much as the sight of Lorcan crying. It seemed the world was out to show me everything I knew had been a lie.

"You're not a Scamander, though. You changed your name, didn't you?"

"What's in a name?"

"It's okay to cry, Lorcan. Things happen, everyone cries."

"Not me… not ever."

I don't know what it was, or why it was, but the cracking in his voice perfectly mimicked the cracks in his heart, in my heart. I didn't know what I was doing or why I was doing it. All I knew was the desire to help him. I had to help him, the guilt would kill me if I didn't. Besides, that's what friends did, right? They helped each other. Lorcan was my friend, I had always thought he was my friend. So I spared no thought for the pile of library books I was leaving on the table as I ran to hug him, to hold him tight and tell him everything would be okay.

"Come on, let's go get you some tea."

We walked down to the Kitchens, his arm around my shoulders. When did he get so tall? It didn't matter though, because he was still practically catatonic. His grip was loose and lazy, and he refused to look anywhere but the ceiling. He didn't even blink. And as I detached myself from his arm to tickle the pear on the portrait, he seemed to sway on the spot, as if his source of balance had been removed. I wouldn't realize until much, much later just how true that sentiment turned out to be.

When I pushed open the portrait and led him inside, he almost fell into a small chair by the wall. It was as if everything was limp and raw and broken, utterly spent. He didn't even have the energy to pretend he hadn't been crying anymore. I gingerly dropped myself into the seat beside him, trying to smile, trying to act like everything was okay. I wanted him to trust me. More than almost anything, I needed him to trust me. For if he didn't trust me, how could I fix him? Surely, that's what the entire thing was about. I just wanted to help him.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"I'm pretty sure you already know."

"That doesn't mean you don't want to talk about it."

"But you probably don't want to hear…"

"Again, that doesn't mean you don't want to talk about it." I turned to an elf and smiled sweetly, as I always tried to. "Could we have two cups of tea, please? Thank you."

Lorcan shook his head, sighing exasperatedly. "I don't know how to say any of it."

"Yes, you do."

"I don't know what to do anymore."

"About what?"

"Everything."

The elf came back with our tea, handing me both cups. With a smile, I thanked her, and handed a cup to Lorcan. "Drink up."

And he did. It was as if he was studying me, empty eyes trying to find an answer. Why was I helping him? Why did I care so much? He thought he had ruined me. He should have ruined me. But history turns on a knut, and if he hadn't, I don't know if anything would be the same.

"Feeling any better?"

"I can't tell."

"Maybe you should keep talking."

"I don't know who I am, or what makes me keep doing and saying and feeling all the things I keep doing and saying and feeling."

"Does anyone?"

"How am I supposed to fix myself, Lily? I'm too much of a fuck up."

"Maybe you're not. Maybe the point of life is to surround yourself with people who care enough to do the fixing for you."

"Like who?"

"I don't know, maybe the girl who left twelve books unattended in the Great Hall just to make you feel better?"

There it was again. He was staring at me, studying me, questioning me with those eyes, those cold, dead eyes that hurt so badly. Void of emotion but filled to the brim with pain, they clouded with the question I'm sure I must have been asking myself as well.

"Why do you care, though? Look at what happened to you because of me."

I absentmindedly licked my lips, trying to find the right words. He was my friend, wasn't he? I thought we were friends. I thought that's what friends were supposed to do, they were supposed to help each other, they were supposed to care. But apparently, I was wrong. More and more lately, I had been wrong.

"I don't regret it, you know. Maybe I did at first, but… for a while, I was immensely happy. And that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't…" I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. What would be appropriate to say? If he hadn't defiled me? Given me a drink, locked the door, and changed my life? No, no, no. It was rude, it was wrong. He didn't need to feel guilty. I was there to help him, not to hurt him.

"Well, neither do I. So I guess that's something…" He smiled at me, or at least he tried to. It was nice. I had missed his smile, even the smiles weighed down with sadness. Sadness was becoming an increasingly familiar feeling, and oddly, I found myself liking it. Sad is like happy, but for deep people, people who think too much, people with too much time on their hands. People like me.

"Yeah, something…"

"I think… At the moment, you're the only person I've got."

"Everyone needs someone, Lorcan."

He sighed, or maybe it was a shadow of a chuckle, flitting past his lips like stardust and scorn. "So, how are we going to pull me out of this?"

"I don't know. If I did, I'd have fixed myself a long time ago."

"Seems like we all need fixing, don't we?"

"Pretty much."

It was quiet for a few minutes. We continued to sip our tea, quietly waiting, quietly wondering. At one point, an elf brought over a plate of cookies. I would have taken one, but I was doing so well, and I didn't want to ruin it. Maybe if he had taken one, I would have as well. But he didn't. He just sat there, staring at them, as if something in the dough would make his pain go away. It didn't, of course. He still hurt. I just wanted to help him, I swear that's all I wanted. Sometimes, though, things don't work out the way you want.

"Everyone tells me I'm stupid for leaving her, but… Molly tried to kill herself. How could I stay with her if I was making her want to kill herself?"

"Maybe the ones who hurt us are the ones meant to heal us."

"I can't be a good boyfriend to her when I'm like this… when I'm so fucked up."

"Did you ever think that maybe, if you stopped trying so hard to be a good boyfriend, you'd realize how much easier it is to just _be_ one?"

"She wants me to like myself, Lily. And I just don't. I… I can't."

"Why not?"

"I've done… bad things. Things I can't take back."

"Haven't we all?"

"Not to the same degree."

"You don't know the things I've done, Lorcan."

"And you don't know the things I've done."

"Touché."

When he didn't respond, I swirled the tea leaves around in my teacup, absentmindedly trying to decipher patterns in the remains. Finding none, I resumed my purpose. I tried to help him.

"Just because you've done bad things doesn't mean you're a bad person."

"Then what makes a bad person bad?"

"Bad intentions?"

"Based on that argument… I'm the worst."

I frowned. I just wanted to help him, why wouldn't he let me help him? "I don't know what makes a bad person bad, Lorcan. All I know is that you're not one of them."

He paused. I guess I must have said something wrong, because he certainly took a long time to mull this over, weighing the truth in each word as if it made a difference. I must have said something wrong. Or maybe, I had said something right.

"I hope you're right."

"When have I ever been wrong?"

"I can't remember a time."

Finally, he smiled. A real smile, not tainted with sadness or tears. Finally, he smiled, all for me, because of me.

"Exactly."

I should have realized I was wrong. I should have realized arrogance didn't suit me. I should have realized. I don't know what would have happened if I had, but it must have been better than what actually happened. Or maybe it would have been worse. I guess I'll never know.

* * *

The next few weeks hurt. While I thought I had been getting better, I had only been getting worse. Lorcan, however, was different. It had been obvious that he needed help, or at least, it had been obvious to me, but even I couldn't tell whether or not I was actually making any sort of difference.

We had been sitting in the common room, huddled together on a large, blue sofa in front of the small, orange fire. It was April; why the fire had even been lit, I didn't know. But I didn't care. It was nice, warm, cozy. It gave me an excuse to be close to him.

"Lily," he whispered, as if he wasn't sure whether to speak at all. "I'm tired."

I nodded, sliding off of the sofa, away from him. "All right. I'll see you in the morning, then—"

He grabbed my arm, as if to say, _"Come with me."_ I looked down at him, searching for an answer in his eyes, but they were still fixated on the dying fire, which crackled and hissed in my ears. Suddenly, finally, I understood. I gently pried my arm from his grasp, choosing instead to meet his hand with my own. His palm was calloused, rough, warm. It slid into mine perfectly, as if it was meant to be there. And maybe, just maybe, it was.

He led me up the familiar spiral staircase into his dorm, where the walls were the same blue as his eyes, as his spirit, as the dark depths of the ocean; where the carpet sank between my toes like sand; where Lysander and Hugo sang in their sleep, muttered melodies that tasted of love.

Love. I didn't believe in it back then. Maybe that has something to do with why things happened the way they did. Maybe that has something to do with why I let him take me over to his bed and sit me down and wordlessly close the curtains. I let him smooth my hair back off of my face and ever so gently cup my cheeks. I let him kiss me, soft and sweet and slow and absolutely nothing like the old him, like before he needed fixing.

I let him kiss me that night. I let him kiss me, and I let him hold me, and I let him take me, just as he had that very first time.

* * *

A single piece of toast.

"Lily, how long has it been?"

"Three days," I told him. I could have been aloof and nonchalant about it. I could have acted as though it didn't bother me. I could have said I hadn't kept count. But he was Lorcan; there was never any point in pretending.

"You haven't eaten in three days?"

"No."

"Are you trying to kill yourself?"

I can't remember what I told him, but I can imagine it was something very similar to the truth—I didn't know. He sighed, as if he couldn't believe I would do this to myself again, and picked me up, slinging me over his shoulder. I must have looked ridiculous, red hair falling into my face, struggling to keep my skirt from flipping up, but I couldn't bring myself to mind. _He's got me,_ I assured myself. _I'm safe_.

He didn't stop until we were in the Kitchens, and he had placed me into a chair, my chair. The same chair I always sat in. The elves, by then, knew us both by name. We were those two Ravenclaws who stood like siblings and laughed like lovers, who stared like strangers and spoke like friends. We were Lorcan and Lily.

He sat down, a minute or two later, in his chair across from mine, placing a small plate in front of me, which held a single piece of toast. No butter, no jam, just toast. He didn't say anything. He just looked at me, he looked at me with those eyes of his, and waited.

After what seemed like an age of contemplation, I took a bite. And, as I chewed, I saw a smile start to tug at the corner of his lips. That smile pulled me forward, it drove me to take another bite, and another one, and another, until all that was left were breadcrumbs.

He rewarded me for it later, but, honestly, that smile was more than enough of a reward already.

* * *

We sat on a rock, dangling our legs over the lake. His feet were completely submerged in the cool water, whereas the tips of my toes just barely skimmed the surface. His arm was around my waist, holding me tight, holding me close. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, but he really didn't have to.

"You're all right, Potter."

"Eh," I smirked, "I've seen better."

He responded by shoving me into the lake. Upon resurfacing, I spouted water into his face and laughed. If anyone were to ask him, he'd have sworn up and down that at that moment, he dove into the water to join me. Really, though, I had grabbed his leg and pulled him in, a fact which I held over his head for months.

He kissed me then, in the middle of the lake, through our shivering and giggling and trying to stay afloat. He kissed me and held me close and told me I was beautiful.

And, for the very first time, I began to believe him.

That night, we both served detention with Professor Longbottom. Apparently, swimming in the lake is frowned upon at Hogwarts. We didn't care.

* * *

Molly came back. Not from anywhere particularly exciting, but back into his life. He didn't know how to feel about it, but I did. I was happy for him, I really was. They were good for each other. Molly and Lorcan. Lorcan and Molly. They were emotional, they were passionate, they were right. Not like Lorcan and me. Not like Lorcan and me at all.

We were silly and stupid and giggly, childish and whimsical and just plain wrong. He didn't need me anymore. He needed Molly.

We were lying in the grass. It was a Saturday, at the end of the term. No Quidditch, no classes, no homework, just the sky and the grass and the ants and the birds and Lorcan and me. Side by side, hand in hand. But not like normal.

There was a sense of finality in the air, not just from the end of the term, but because the end of something else was looming so close, close enough to taste. I knew what he would say before he said it. And, oddly enough, I didn't mind.

"We don't work."

"We could. We did. But you're thinking something different, aren't you?"

"I spoke to Molly yesterday."

"I know."

"She wants me back."

"I know."

He let go of my hand and rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his elbow. I turned my head to face him. I would have rolled over to face him completely, but the grass was comfortable, and I know he would not have rolled over for me.

"In another universe, I would be completely and totally in love with you."

There was a sadness in my smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. He was all stress and difficult decisions and frown lines; he got too old, too soon. But he didn't mind, and neither did I.

"I'd be in love with you, too."

"But there's Molly, there's always been Molly."

"And there always will be Molly. I get it, Lorcan. You love her."

"I'm sorry, Lily."

"Don't be."

"I guess this is the end, then."

"I guess so."

He kissed me one last time, soft and sweet and tame. That was a word I had never felt before, not in his kisses. I had tamed the beast. I had tamed Lorcan Scamander.

He rolled onto his back, sighing up into the bright blue sky. That was it. That was the end of Lorcan and Lily. We had had a good run, a good adventure. And the best part was, nothing had to change. We could stay exactly the same, minus the sex and minus the kissing. After all the growing we had done over the past few months, finally we had reached a point where we could stay the same.

* * *

Molly hates me now. She hates me because I had him when she didn't. She hates me for healing him when she couldn't. She hates me for his happiness, she hates me for his sadness, she hates me for his friendship. She hates that nothing had to change.

When she lost Lorcan, she lost everything. When I lost him, I didn't lose a thing. She resented me for it. I always knew she would. Ultimately, though, she got him. She got Lorcan and she got the life she always wanted. She got his happiness and his help and his love, his trust and his smiles and his sleeptalking. She got his love, and I got my memories.

In another universe, though, he would have been completely and totally in love with me. And in another universe, we could have been fantastic.


End file.
